A Flower Of Prose

And God asked me to write a little flower of prose, so I sat and I typed.

I had been feeling that slide, that melancholy that sticks to the skin like a humid day and I prayed for God's love to fill me and to make me whole. I wanted God's love to drift over my skin and evaporate the stickiness away. I want to be filled with God's love so I can share it with others, so I can stop focusing on myself, so I can write, so I can stop being bitter, so I can learn to love myself, so I can learn to love God. All this depends on God's love and I want to know this love before the slide sets in.

Is this a flower? No, it's a bud that wants to burst but it waits for rain, for God to take notice and to touch the skies. Send your rain Lord, send your rain.